The threat should not have been soothing given the circumstances, but the immediate obeyal - Eve slipping off the wall and directly into Samir’s waiting arms - quieted the tumultuous storm in her heart.

Samir was so quiet. So quiet and unlike anything else in her world. Patient. Like a marble carving, unmoving and impartial to the flow of time. It had been all of one day, and already, Eve was terrified of her growing desire for that peace. She took a slow inhale - amber and pine - as Samir pressed her into his chest. He had changed clothes. The suit he was wearing was a clean, impeccable black. A series of stunning silver rings decorated his fingers, diamonds pressed through the piercings of his ears. His hair was freshly styled. A cigarette, the same brand that the stranger had been smoking, dangled between the fingers of his left hand.

His right arm was wrapped around her midriff and across her chest, fingers near her neck, holding her close.

Arman had sunk to his knees with his head bowed. The disdain Eve had felt winked out of existence as his eyes grew wide in fear. Samir flicked his cigarette at the man. It didn’t touch him, but it landed just beside his knee, amongst the stained concrete, and fizzled faintly.

“Care to explain?” Samir said finally, when the quiet had stretched on for too long, and when Eve’s pulse beneath his fingertips had quieted slightly.

“Just trying to follow your orders, sir,” Arman murmured, deflating slightly.

“And what, pray tell, were my orders, Arman?” This side of Samir was somehow slightly unexpected. A frigid crispness in his voice. The detached cruelty in his gaze. The fury building between his brow and at the corners of his lips. Arman made a strange sound under his breath. Samir’s finger stroked along her neck, along her pulse, once, as though to reassure Eve. “What was that?”

“To make sure the woman was safe,” Arman admitted, in a small voice. “But she’s safe! She was just being so difficult-”

“Arman.”

Eve felt goosebumps ripple down her spine at the sharpness with which Samir said his subordinate’s name. The guard shut his mouth with an audible swallow. Eve pulled out of Samir’s grasp, feeling fresh irritation well in her chest.

“Samir,” She said, venomous. “This was unnecessary.”

“Forgive me,” the man said immediately, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I did not think you needed the protection. I simply did not wish to lose track of you. Something told me you’d disappear within hours of being awake, and I couldn't risk that happening.”

Eve didn’t understand. The set of her jaw was telling. “I hardly know you.”

“You saved my life. I am not the type to leave a debt unpaid.”

“Unnecessary.” She repeated.

In truth, Eve was slightly curious about her own reaction to the man. But she did not wish to build any sort of relationship off of unpaid debts. Fake friends were worse than no friends at all. 

Not that Eve made friends anymore, not after so many years. It simply wasn’t worth the heartache.

Samir pulled her back in, and the world grew soft and quiet again. Peaceful in a way that Eve had not known in a hundred years.

Almost blindingly so. The sound of crickets in the parking lot, the cashier inside the motel popping bubbles of gum, and a breeze, kissing the leaves on the trees. 

Samir's lips were warm; barely touching the shell of her ear. Eve hadn’t had this in so long.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” Samir said. “Think of this as the actions of a mad man. But I must repay my debt.”

“You have already done enough,” Eve murmured. Arman looked as though he was trying very hard not to listen too closely. Both of his hands were folded at the small of his back. The position looked terribly uncomfortable.

“If anything,” Samir breathed, “It solidified just how much I owe you.”

“What can I do to get rid of you?”

A laugh. Short and unbothered. As though he were somehow expecting this response.

“I must have interrupted your plans. Work even. Let me make it up to you.”

Eve snickered. Her body had melted back into his chest, despite her mild efforts to do otherwise. He was so broad, and just as stable as she’d remembered him being. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I own a private security service,” Samir drawled.

“No,” Eve said shortly, cutting him off before he said anything more.

“If your work was safe, you wouldn’t own a gun,” Samir countered.

“Not that it’s helped me much now,” Eve muttered. She couldn’t see the other man, but she could practically feel him grin as she half-proved his point. “And I’ve been fine thus far.”

“That was before you got involved with him,” Arman muttered from the floor, and Samir’s hands on her grew tighter. Eve stiffened. 

“You’re saying I’ll be targeted, because I helped Samir out?”

“Yes.”

“Arman,” Samir hissed. Eve held a hand out, cutting any other protests short.

“That’s fine. I can handle myself.”

“And I would feel much better, if you weren’t entirely by yourself.”

“Frankly, it’s none of your business.”

Samir mopped a hand over his face. “I know.”

“Hey,” Arman interjected, softly.

“Then why would you possibly care? I just can’t wrap my head around it?”

“Is it so wrong for one person to care for a fellow human?”

Eve bit her lip. “No. But this is an awful hassle for you to be going through. I just can’t believe that you would be doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Hello?” Arman chimed in again. They both ignored him.

“I’m not,” Samir said, curtly. His eyelashes were so long. The entire conversation his expression had hardly shifted from that soft, peerless calm. Now it colored with something closer to anxiety. He was offering her a choice, she realized. That despite the bravado, if she rejected his proposal, he would disappear from her life.

“Then why?” Eve demanded, voice altogether too soft. The sooner she understood, the better. The easier it would be for her in the long run, to tear herself away from such peace.

Arman smacked Samir’s thigh, firmly enough that the man finally paid attention to him. But the redhead was looking somewhere in the distance, posture strangely panicked.

“Samir. Tell me I'm hallucinating.”

Eve turned. 

The creature was a stark, leathery charcoal beneath the light of day. Two little horns rose from its head, and though it was shorter than Eve, it made up for lack of height through the sheer brawn of its claw-tipped wings. There was something grotesque about it; the violent hunger in its eyes despite the impish, lizardlike exterior.

It had perched atop an expensive, glossy sports car, which somehow managed to look more out of place in the dusty lot than the monster did. Eve felt her throat go dry at the spike of fear which came from her side, watching Arman’s pointer finger waver midair. Samir inhaled sharply at her back.

A hallow.

So they’d found her. She’d been so careful. Hadn’t allowed the faintest scent of her existence to reach beyond the Divide. Still, she thought as she watched the membrane over those wings flex, even the dullest of the beings in the mythic dimension were bound to notice, eventually. That I’m slaughtering their lackeys and forcing them back home. It would at least explain why there had been so many attempting to break past the barrier. They’d been trying to figure out who their enemy was.

Eve’s stomach filled with leaden calm. She must have pissed someone off.

Hallows were upper beings. Soldiers. Deities strong enough that they could bleed into the human world with only minor consequences.

“Not these bastards again,” Samir muttered, his hands sliding off her skin and dropping to his side.

Again?

Before Eve could so much as open her mouth, his arm shot out, a bullet tearing forward, silencer making the sound dull. It was still loud enough and sudden enough that she jerked backwards, heart shooting up into her throat.

“What are you doing?” Eve hissed, fisting his jacket so she could drag him back. That would never work. It was only a regular bullet. A hallow’s existence wasn’t tied to its flesh and blood.

Predictably, the beast only swayed, its maw dropping open so it could flick a snakelike tongue over elongated fangs. It was doing something - growing larger, spines along its back bristling upright. Trying to intimidate them. Imprint itself in their minds.

“Keeping us safe,” Samir said dryly, shaking her off.

“Don’t look at it,” Eve muttered under her breath, wishing desperately that she'd brought any of her tools with her. “The more you believe it's real, the stronger it will get.” Samir only calmly cocked his head and fired a second time, this time stepping to the side so that the sound would not echo so close to Eve’s ears. She watched, astounded, as the man repeated the action again - and again, and again, and again until the gun clicked empty.

Samir pulled another clip from his pocket and loaded it into the magazine. “You see how that’s impossible though, right? I’m already aware of it. I can’t just wipe my memory.”

“Well, try,” Eve growled. “Pretend you’re on a movie set or something.”

“And let it kill us?”

“Not on my watch,” Eve said, reaching for his weapon. At least she could wield the old magic. Something that would deal some actual damage. Samir lifted the gun higher and resumed shooting. Eve snarled in frustration and leapt, wrestling the weapon from the man’s grip in a maneuver that was definitely entirely unsafe. He gave it up easily after that.

The hallow - sensing that something had changed, let out a screech and tensed, muscles rippling. There wasn’t a single wound across its scales. It leapt from the car, long claws gauging lines across the hood, and for a moment, cast a shadow that blocked out the sun.

Eve exhaled, once, the motion stilling any quiver in her muscles as she searched for fuel. Samir was an utterly useless, empty bucket. But Arman: this man would work just fine. She could see the terror in the flare of his nostrils and the way he worked to swallow but seemed to have forgotten how to work his throat. It bathed her, icy-hot, a cavern that punched the breath straight from her lungs.

She took it all. When her finger pulled the trigger, the bullet glowed purple as it left the chamber.

And this time, when it hit the hallow, mid-leap in their direction, the body pulled apart and scattered like shattered glass into nothingness.

Eve swayed, blinking dark spots from her eyes. Strong emotions made strong magic. It should have been a simple equation. Should have. But the recoil slammed into her more fiercely than it had even the night before, human body scorching beneath the strain. Samir reached for her. She anticipated it, scuttling out of his reach, hands on her knees as she fought to catch her breath. 

By the time she could see properly again, the man had paused, the corners of his mouth tight, and they held eye contact for one long, still moment.

“What was that?” He asked, words slow and measured. Like he was fighting to keep his voice steady.

Eve set the gun gently down on the ground. “The creature, or me?”

Samir was shaking his head. “Nevermind, I doubt you’ll give me a clear answer either way.” Her mouth twisted in response to his scowl, tone a little too short.

“You couldn’t have gotten rid of it.” She didn’t know why she was humoring him. It was as though his presence compelled her to act foolishly, and the prospect of saying more had Eve wishing she’d never bothered stepping out of the room in the first place that morning. Her dress curled around her ankles when she swiveled, slow and heavy with exhaustion.

“Wait.” Samir reached for her wrist again, but went stiff, holding himself back with a frustrated little flinch. “Arman. What did you do to him?” Eve had forgotten about him, attention sliding briefly and carelessly back over to the kneeling figure. His pupils were dilated, eyes gazing emptily at the horizon.

“He’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Eve said, fight and squabble going out of her voice like a deflating balloon. “Just empty.”

Samir shook Arman gently, to no avail. “What do you mean, he’s empty?”

Eve floundered for words. “Well,” she began, hands waving in large movements. “You know, when sometimes, you tune out of the world for just a few minutes, and feel absolutely nothing? And then you seem to snap back into reality?” Her palms collided, the sound sharp. “And everything feels a bit too sharp and vivid for a few seconds, as though you can physically sense the passage of time restarting?” Samir only looked at her, unflinching and blank-faced. Eve lowered her hands. “Nevermind,” she muttered. “Just know he’ll be totally fine in a minute or two.” She turned heel, stomping up the stairs, slightly irritated that she had even tried to explain.

A pair of long legs fell into step beside her. “You walk too fast.”

She looked up at Samir from beneath her lashes, scrutinizing. “You left him there, like that?”

“You said he’d be fine.”

“Should be fine. So long as there aren’t any more of those things.”

“There won’t be,” Samir said confidently, and seeing Eve’s doubtful glance, explained. “It’s always been the same one. I recognized it - gave it an awful nick along the left flank.” His words rattled her. She sucked in sharply, letting her eyes trace over the furrowed crease of his forehead, then down to his mouth, searching for any sign of a lie. Finding none, her gaze hardened, almost imperceptibly. A blast of AC hit her skin as Samir pulled the door open.

This man - a human - had, through some incomprehensible to her method, injured a creature of the mythic dimension. She shuddered slightly, and it was not because of the chill. She’d heard it was possible of course. That spiteful and vengeful humans had, in the past, deliberately erased their knowledge and fear of certain existences. Had toppled entire faiths, leaving gods searching for scraps of recognition, lest they fade entirely from existence.

But those had been groups, communities, over hundreds of years.

Never a lone individual. One thing was clear now: He was dangerous. 

And he was being hunted.

When at last she broke from her thoughts, Samir was still holding the door open for her, posture tight and cautious, like a pet that had been caught doing something wrong. 

Eve held his gaze for one second, two.

“Go home, Samir,” She murmured at last. Something behind those silver eyes crumpled, but it was gone as soon as it had come. Eve felt herself soften a little anyways. As she brushed by him, her fingers traced beneath his jaw, tipping the hanging head upwards. “Chin up. It’s better this way.”

“Better for you, or better for me?” Samir whispered. Disappointment had drawn his shoulders taut.

And well, Eve couldn’t really answer that. But if it had been Samir that had caught the attention of the hallows, she could not afford to spend any more time with him.

In this body, it was all she could do to keep herself alive, much less another useless human.

“Go home,” she said again, gentle, barely cutting over the sound of the door as she pushed it shut.